


Like You Mean It

by past_memories



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post S4, Post TFP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/past_memories/pseuds/past_memories
Summary: He had to let her know how much she meant to him and how much he loves her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, back from the dead! I'm sorry I haven't been very active but school takes a lot of time out of my schedule. This is just a little one-shot set after the events of episode 3. Hope you enjoy!

He needed to tell her; how much she meant to him and how much he meant it when he said 'I love you'. The second he was sure that both Mycroft and John were home safe, he rushed off to her flat, determined to let her know how he felt. He felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins as the cabbie got closer and closer to Molly's flat. Once there, he threw a handful of bills towards the driver, and rushed out of the car into the pouring rain. He barely felt the moisture as it quickly soaked him nor the chill that came with it. He stopped in front of the doorbell, his hand hovering over it, trying to work up the courage. He pushed the button. There was no turning back now. He waited for what felt like years before he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. It slowly creaked open to present a very groggy Molly Hooper in an old cotton t-shirt and fluffy pink pajama bottoms. 

"Fuck off" She said forcefully, trying to shut the door. 

"Please" Sherlock's hand shot out, stopping the door just before it closed. "I need to talk to you."

"It's two a.m. Sherlock. I don't need this right now."

"Please, just listen." He felt like his heart was going to come out of his chest it was beating so hard. What if she didn't let him come in? What if she didn't listen? What if she never forgave him?

Molly stood for a moment, watching as the man she had loved for years stood outside of her house, looking as if he was about to cry. The rain had soaked him through and he looked utterly pathetic. She heaved a sigh before opening the door to let him in. His face melted into a grateful smile as she turned the hallway light on. 

"Wait on the carpet. I'll get you a towel."

He stood silently as he watched her walk up the steps and go into the bathroom. He heard some rustling before she reappeared at the top of the steps. Some thought popped into her head, however, and she gave him a signal to hold on. She went towards her room and Sherlock heard what he thought to be the sound of a drawer opening. She found what she was looking for and was soon coming down the steps. 

"Here." She handed him a towel and an old pair of pajamas that he must have left there when he was hiding out after his fake death. "You know where the bathroom is down here. Change out of your clothes and then we can talk."

"Thank you" He made sure to quickly squeeze her hand after taking the items so she knew how much he meant it.  

After getting dressed and having Molly put his wet clothes in her dryer (just another kindness of hers he felt guilty), they both settled on her couch, facing each other. He could see the tissues littered all around the couch and the empty glass of wine sitting on the coffee table. She had obviously had a good cry after their little phone call. He was about to start when-

"What the hell happened to your hands?" Molly asked, quickly grabbing them and inspecting the multitude of splinters and cuts that were scattered all over his hands and onto his wrists. 

"Oh, I smashed a coffin." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but it's pretty difficult with a sentence such as that. Molly was not having it.

"You smashed a coffin?!"

"Well, your coffin to be precise." Again, the casual tone had no effect. 

"MY coffin?!!" 

Sherlock gave Molly's hands what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze before continuing. 

"I have a sister and she's got...issues. She's a sociopath and she kidnapped Mycroft, John, and I and had us complete tasks within the confines of her prison." 

"Damn" Molly's expressed changed to one of worry and Sherlock watched as the weight of his words sunk in "Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone is fine. But one of the tasks was that there was a coffin...meant for you. And Eurus, my sister, told me that unless I got you to say 'I love you' that she would blow up your house."

"And that's why you made the call." Molly finished for him. She gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I understand now. You just did all of that to save my life. It's fine."

"It's not fine! I hurt you...And I came over to tell you that I meant it. I love you, Molly Hooper." Tears welled up in Molly's eyes at the sincerity in his voice. "I've loved you for a long time, I think. I just didn't know it. But I don't deserve you." Before he could stop himself he reached out and tucked some of Molly's hair behind her ear, leaving his hand hovering by her cheek. "I’ve been so horrible to you. I don't understand why you still talk to me after some of the things I've said to you." Sherlock felt his own tears starting to well up as he thought of the ways he had hurt Molly and what his life would be like without her. 

"Oh Sherlock" Molly whimpered as she wrapped her arms tightly around Sherlock's neck, her tears flowing freely. They sat like that for what felt like hours, basking in each other's company and comforting each other. Sherlock eventually leaned back and took Molly's face in his hands. 

"I don't want you to ever doubt that I love you. I will always love you, Molly Hooper." 

Sherlock slowly brought his face to hers, finally kissing the woman he loved, an action that was long overdue. 


End file.
